


Clutch Inside Me

by Kei_LS



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: AND WATERS MUST BE TESTED, Alcohol, Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Aliens, Anal Sex, BECAUSE ARKILLO IS A GENTLEMAN, Biting, Egg Laying, Licking, Long Tongue, M/M, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sex in Space, Slime, Xenophilia, abuse of alien bar tops, abuse of power rings, don't get too excited about that one, i don't go in depth, just one egg, listen guy can own more than one, minor blood, or at least on an alien bar probably, there's such a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kei_LS/pseuds/Kei_LS
Summary: It starts with talking and drinking, and from there devolves into.... Look. It's not Guy's fault that the universe at large doesn't know jack about human biology. But it might be a little bit Guy's fault that he doesn't know anything about Arkillo's.
Relationships: Arkillo/Guy Gardner
Comments: 9
Kudos: 59





	Clutch Inside Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSecondCircle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecondCircle/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY SURPRISE FUCKER!!!!!!! This is one hundred percent inspired by all those chats I've lurked on. I hope you love it. Also hello everyone else this is nothing but porn

_“Fuck. Fuck oh fuck – ohh fuck,_ ” Guy gasps roughly. He feels like he can barely breathe, hands flat against the bar top and head bowed down over it. He’s not holding his own weight, couldn’t if he tried, and every thick, ridged inch is – _“Ohhh fuck._ ”

So.

Guy isn’t… fully sure how this happened. Isn’t sure if he’s complaining or – well, okay, he’s not. Obviously. But.

It’s not – he hadn’t _meant_ for it. Was honestly just talking, nothing big, and then- _‘Ngh- ghhh!! Aah!”_

“Am I hurting you?” Hands. Big hands that swallow Guy’s hips and end in claws flex carefully and Guy makes a sound that’s downright embarrassing. His body is pressed flat to the counter, and for the first time in a long time his ring sparks without his intent. Soft fizzling _crackles_ of manifested will reminding him that there’s questions to be answered. Thoughts to form. The heavy weight on top of him shifts back, just an inch and Guy clenches around him tightly with a thick whine. Claws at the counter weakly and then slams his fist down against it.

 _“Don’t stop_!” he gasps, blinks hard to try and get his vision to stop swimming. Breathes in deep and burns all the way down to his core. “Don’t – don’t you _dare_ stop.” He can feel the hesitance, the pause of consideration, and he glares blindly over his shoulder. Gets nothing but grey skin and the rough wet drag of a tongue that could never be human.

Arkillo lifts his hips. Moves him like a doll to straighten him out over the counter and shoves in at the same time he licks a long, thick stripe from Guy’s shoulder to his cheek. Guy _whines_. Slams his fist against the bar top again while sounds someone his size has no business making get forced out of him all at once. Arkillo takes his turned head as invitation, and Guy’s next groan is filled with his tongue in the next moment. Muffles him, and Guy almost bites down on reflex, except the tongue is so thick and hot Guy can’t do much more than shudder and suck at it.

Arkillo doesn’t quite hum – it’s more – it’s a feeling that vibrates through Guy’s body. The buzz of fluorescent lights deep and thrumming through his blood. He breathes harshly through his nose – has to – the sound loud between them as whatever thick, sticky mess Arkillo is using to slick Guy up pulses deep into him and leaks out. He can feel it slide down his thighs along with the ache of another thick inch that drags and pushes against his rim in a rough scrape that Guy _cannot_ handle. He feels it, the way his body is tightening – both at the way it’s being forced loose and the building heat and demanding ache of his cock.

It’s a minor ache, really. He’s hard enough to cut diamond – he knows he is – because he’s not even throbbing it’s just constant pressure that’s still nearly drowned out by _Arkillo_. A stronger buzz vibrates through his skin, Arkillo’s tongue probing deeper into his mouth until he’s choking on it as it presses in against his throat and then slowly curls out. He swears his organs are being rearranged, and he’s grateful for the breath, and so hot his fingers are digging deep scratches into the finish before he realizes that Arkillo is laughing.

“Our anatomy isn’t so different,” Arkillo notes. And – right, that’s right, they’d been talking about random shit and of fucking course the question of backwater earthlings had come up and Guy is so used to it – to talking frankly because the alternative is disgust or condescension and he has no time or patience for either of it. He’d gone for the obvious. A joke about dicks he knew would translate poorly and led to the discovery that Arkillo is just – always ready to go. Guy hadn’t believed him. _Why_ hadn’t Guy believed him? The slow push of his cock out of a slit, big and thick, veins that pulsed in a long and wide line of violently bright purple it was almost hypnotic. The bright red sides that flared out in ridges that Guy could _feel_ with every shift. “You are – _very_ accommodating.”

He never would have guessed Arkillo could purr.

“That’s me – _haaah_ ,” Guy wheezes. “Ready and _w-willing_ to _s-serve, g-god how much more!?”_

“Half?” Arkillo guesses. Guy freezes, shudders and pushes against Arkillo in time with another more forceful shove. He thinks he might have screamed, too high on everything in the galaxy to process much beyond the bulge of his stomach and the way he sinks back. “…little one-“

“ _Half_ ,” Guy repeats, not even sure if they were words or just garbled sounds. He shudders. Tosses his head back and feels Arkillo’s tongue – scratchy, rough, slide up his cheek again and feeling wetter than before. He loses control – any and all semblance of it – the room washed in shades of green when his hand reflexively clenches into a fist again. Arkillo makes a considering sound behind him, scrapes monster teeth – sharp and hard and more fang and tusk than teeth _Lord_ – over his skin.

He’s going to die. He’s going to die from alien sex experimentation. He’s going to die from _Arkillo’s cock_ and Hal Jordan that asshole is never gonna let him or anyone else hear the end of it. John’s gonna be so disappointed. Kilowog had handed out pamphlets about this shit, hadn’t he? Fuck’s sake, if he hadn’t Kyle probably had – this was gonna count as a win for the Sinestro corps and Guy couldn’t even be _mad about it._

Too busy dying.

He yelps – can’t truthfully call it anything else – when Arkillo moves again. Lifts him with a rough twist that has Guy’s back smacking against Arkillo’s chest and Arkillo’s fist closing over his. Green collides with yellow and Guy thinks he might pass out. Might have already, because the next thing he’s conscious of is looking down and seeing the bulge of his own stomach – Arkillo’s cock pressing in and rounding him out while gravity slides him down, down, _down_.

He stops somewhere between heaven and hell, head pressed back to Arkillo’s shoulder and thighs held open and spread wide by yellow clamps of energy that don’t distract him nearly as much as how it feels to run his hand over his stomach and feel Arkillo from both sides. That tongue is scraping roughly over his chest, lapping eagerly at his skin while he quakes in the aftermath. It’s only when he feels something thick and warm slide over his stomach and then lift to his lips, when he tastes the bitter-salt tang of his own seed, that he realizes he’s come.

 _“Fuck_ ,” he breathes. Bites blindly and feels Arkillo chuckle while he scrapes his finger carelessly over Guy’s teeth and lips and down his jaw. He’s lost to time. Spread out for anyone to wander in and see, truthfully, aching in every way and feeling the strange alien pulse of Arkillo buried deep.

“An unexpected gift,” Arkillo murmurs. Rumbles, “I would choose you. Keep you like this for the whole clutch.” Guy garbles sounds back, something like agreement, and quakes again at the shift of Arkillo’s body. The tug and pull of everything inside of him responding, the way Arkillo isn’t even properly fucking him but he still _feels_ it – feels like he’s getting fucked constantly within an inch of his life by the strange pulse inside.

It’s just constant shifting pressure, stretching his walls and dizzying against his prostate. Nothing rests, nothing is _at_ rest, and despite Arkillo’s groans he’s barely moving save for the occasional shift of his weight and the constant swipes of his tongue. “Perhaps…” he hears above and behind and around and inside him, “just one?”

“ _Hhhnnnmmmgh,”_ Guy answers. Would wonder if this is what going crazy felt like if he hadn’t already _done that_. Arkillo’s hands close around his arms, and Guy only figures out why when he rolls his hips in a slow grind that reflects in the receding and then growing bulge of his stomach, and then – because Arkillo is nothing if not _im-fucking-possible_ – he feels the cock inside of him grow. A deep, blood searing pulse of arousal as he’s stretched wider around Arkillo.

Arkillo’s seed comes in that wave – he’s sure of it. Can feel it, as his eyes roll back and he comes again both too soon and not fast enough, the burst of thick, hot slick filling up what couldn’t possibly have had more room. It’s a slow-moving volcano, something lodged inside of him even as Arkillo rolls his hips back again with audible reluctance. Guy can’t do anything but take it, accept him, as that monstrous tongue slips back into his mouth and fills him up again with the slow wet slide of Arkillo’s cock leaving him.

It’s as messy as he thought. It’s _loud_. He hears it – the thick drops of Arkillo’s seed spilling out of him to puddle on the ground, except he still feels strangely full. He can’t look down, not with Arkillo fucking his throat with his tongue – _god_ – but even clenching as weakly as he does, he knows there’s something – a hard knot in him left behind. He whimpers, tries to remember how to breathe all over again while Arkillo’s cock stays out – slides wet and hot and firm between his cheeks and along his crack and more of that thick wetness burns and cools on his back, down over his ass.

He feels soaked. Is goddamned exhausted. Slumps, boneless and loose all over wondering how many years it’s going to take to get all Arkillo’s cum-equivalent out of him, the sparking of his ring dying down and leaving the place tinged more yellow in its wake. That dies down too, gradually, and Guy hums unintelligibly when he’s stretched out against something hard but cool against skin. Moans mindlessly when he realizes it’s the damn bar top.

Arkillo stays. Hovers over him, entirely too aware and coherent for what Guy feels like right now, palm covering Guy’s stomach and rubbing back and forth. Guy shivers, eased that he isn’t just left like this and warmed by the attention, but mostly dizzy with the strange feel of still being – there was something thick and hard still inside him.

 _“God damn it,_ ” Guy gargles, so in practice it’s just a mess of vowels punctuated by a hard cough that has him clenching around whatever is still inside of him while he swallows reflexively. His mouth is watering – was watering – or maybe just drowning from Arkillo’s tongue. Arkillo looks pleased though, petting his stomach and sides and rubbing Guy’s own cum into his skin like an asshole. He means to reach for the hand towel, the dish rag, something, and instead his arm just kind of flops limply. One of his legs is hanging off of the counter, ankle resting on a stool.

He’s so thoroughly debauched he doesn’t know where to start.

Arkillo seems to. And admittedly, getting a tongue bath wasn’t something that Guy _hadn’t_ wondered about. He hums, decides it’s a conversation for after he’s had another ten drinks and blacked out at least twice, and jolts when Arkillo pushes down on his stomach and rubs down in a wave that almost hurts. It shifts the thing inside of him, has him opening his eyes with a curse and then, at the sight of Arkillo’s twisted grin, cursing a little more earnestly.

It’s not his imagination. When he forces himself up on an elbow and looks down, he can see it – a small bump. He presses a hand to his stomach and pretends he can’t hear Arkillo _coo_ at him for his own sanity.

“What did you do?” Guy asks hoarsely, more curious than panicked which is entirely a hazard of the job.

“I told you, little one,” Arkillo answers. It’s only a little bit mocking when he continues, “I gave you one.”

“One _what_?” Guy demands. Arkillo’s massive head tilts in consideration. Guy squints back as menacingly as he can while he feels like one arm is going to just tremble right out of its socket.

“Of my eggs.” He has the gall to look amused. Guy feels what little energy he has sap out of him, dropping back to the counter with a rush of air. He thinks maybe he should be angry or something. Then he wonders if he asked for it. Arkillo hasn’t stopped petting his stomach, feeling out the muscle, and Guy squirms a little under his touch before he realizes that Arkillo looks expectant.

And…yeah. That’s…he’s going to have to…

“Oh _screw you_ ,” Guy groans.

“You should get to work, little one,” Arkillo hums. “Your body cannot handle an internal hatching.”

It is, objectively, one of the most terrifying things Guy has ever heard. In the moment, though, all he can really think about is how Arkillo’s egg is nudging up against a sensitive spot inside of him with constant pressure and making it difficult to catch a full breath. Arkillo purrs again, a rolling growl of sound, and then Guy’s legs are getting spread and he’s getting hauled up again to rest against Arkillo’s chest. He doesn’t know if Arkillo is messing with him about the hatching thing, but he does know whatever was pumped into him has to come out. Knows he’s not getting out of this without that, even without Arkillo spreading his legs and skirting the threshold of Guy’s pleasure tolerance, the dance of lights behind his eyes dizzying. That was gonna sting tomorrow.

He clutches weakly at Arkillo’s wrists. Even his fingers feel shaky and Arkillo is laughing at him. He can’t breathe. Can’t see. Can barely think when Arkillo starts licking at him again – over his chest, his stomach, flicking roughly at hard nipples. “You’re not h-helping,” Guy gasps.

“Apologies,” Arkillo says. He doesn’t sound it. Doesn’t stop, and Guy shudders at the scrape of fang over his shoulder and _feels_ it. There’s still more than the impossible pressure inside of him, that thick, slick, _not-semen_ was starting to drip from him and pool onto the counter. He was aware of it. Aware of every shift inside him, unable to interpret much of what was happening while his body went haywire.

He pushes with a deep flush, gasping roughly and groaning under Arkillo’s rolling chuckle. He doesn’t even try to track time, just lets his body work in waves and wreak havoc on him until he’s writhing all over again, straining against Arkillo’s hold on him and clawing at his arms. It’s too much. The stretch alone is – he can feel himself bear down and clench, fighting every attempt to push the egg out, and he digs rolls his hips. Plants his feet on the counter and twists his head back, up, to bite at the thick skin of Arkillo’s neck.

The guy croons, he feels it vibrate through his _teeth_ , but it doesn’t matter. He’s flooded in heat and slick and he can tell Arkillo’s amused at all of it, watching the show all for himself, and something about that sparks Guy’s own sense of challenge. He tugs, restlessly, with his teeth. Doesn’t draw blood. Doesn’t care. He just needs the outlet, the distraction, breathing harshly before he focuses.

 _Yeah_ , Guy thinks when Arkillo breathes in sharply. Awash with green again, and Guy hasn’t ever done this but – well no one was around to lecture him about the improper use of his ring. He doesn’t think about anything specific, exactly, with the ring. He’s more concerned with opening himself up, the pressure and buzz of his ring’s power enveloping him and then pressing _inside._ It shouldn’t feel like anything – the power still comes from him – but it does. _Stars and glory_ it does, and Guy moans shamelessly around Arkillo’s skin ground in his teeth as he stretches himself wider.

For once, Arkillo makes himself useful. Guy can feel those thick hands slide under his ass, push up and spread him wider, and Guy feels it more through the construct than his own body – the egg slowly pushing out of him.

“That’s it,” Arkillo whispers, excited and sharp and Guy grunts. Pushes and only realizes he’s hard again after all when he spurts on himself, hips jerking and feeling like he’ll split – again – split _himself_ in half at the widest part. And then – the drop.

He collapses completely in Arkillo’s arms as soon as the pressure shifts – lessens. The relief. It’s a sudden loss, over-stimulation leaving him numb and pliant for Arkillo to gather up and nip at his skin. He feels horrifyingly empty, and it’s half a thought to fill himself up again with a construct, hips twitching before Arkillo tugs at his arm. It’s a fight to stay conscious, and when Arkillo pulls him back to his chest –

“Relax, tiny pet.”

“F’ck you,” Guy slurs. “Not tiny.”

“Calm down – you hardly seem capable of more.” Guy’s eyes roll back at the thought. He swallows reflexively, hard, and clenches weakly around nothing.

“Next time,” he breathes, “yer buyin me dinner.” Finally, he feels Arkillo shudder behind him. Feels the curve of his ass meet a wet slit and then, tellingly, feels something grow and press against him.

“Ambitious. I shall plan accordingly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I know nothing about eggs or egg laying or this alien fuck? If Guy doesn't know than I don't have to, right? Riiight. (Happy birthday, boo <3 )


End file.
